


Mereology

by faithinthepoor



Series: Desperate Housewives [24]
Category: Desperate Housewives
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithinthepoor/pseuds/faithinthepoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during We’re Gonna be Alright</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mereology

**Author's Note:**

> Follows [Unseemly](http://archiveofourown.org/works/668467), [The Theory of Everything](http://archiveofourown.org/users/faithinthepoor), [Here There Be Dragons](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673221), [Somnambulist](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673229), [Wishin’ and Hopin’](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673233), [Nosology](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673238), [Boundary Violations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673240), [Fractals](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673250), [Windmill Tilting](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673255), [Ambitendency](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673262), [Heisenberg Territory](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673272), [The Illusions of Prisms](http://archiveofourown.org/works/673700), [Keratitis Sicca](http://archiveofourown.org/works/682311), [Schrödinger’s Realm](http://archiveofourown.org/works/682327), [Chiaroscuro](http://archiveofourown.org/works/682358), [Altered Trajectories](http://archiveofourown.org/works/682370), [Elegiacs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1952136), [Tachyphylaxis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1952244), [Verismo](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1953516), [Forced Perspective](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1953594), [Lex Talionis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1953624), [Repetition Compulsion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1953663) and [Cardioid Geometry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1953693)

She never thought of herself as a control freak, she knows control freaks and she is not like them but then she never thought of herself as a someone prone to anxiety and panic either yet ever since she received the message that there was an emergency at home her heart has been doing it’s best to pound its way out of her chest and her breathing is so shallow that it’s virtually ineffectual. Her hands tingle and she worries that she won’t be able to control the steering wheel if this continues but she has to get home, somehow she believes that if she gets there she will be able to avert any emergency that is taking place. When she was confined to home and had prayed for freedom, for a release from the responsibility of looking after the children, she had always thought that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything happened to them while they were in her care but now she realises that it would be so much worse if a tragedy occurred and she was too busy working to be there. She tries not to but she is imagining scenarios of destruction, disfigurement and death and part of her can’t help thinking that this is her fault, that she should have been there to protect her children, that this wouldn’t have happened if she was still at home.

The house isn’t on fire, Wisteria Lane hasn’t been washed away by a flood and she isn’t forced to view the bloody corpses of her offspring, the emergency that has dragged her from work and probably stolen a few years from her life turns out to be nothing more than a virus, a typical childhood disease. The most alarming thing about the whole situation is the discovery that she has married an old woman – Tom is flapping around like chicken pox somehow equates to an exotic haemorrhagic fever and she finds herself hating him more than just a little bit. She does, however, have to concede that a sick and regressed Tom would be a bigger problem given that it would mean that she would essentially have to look after five children and so she agrees to take time off. 

There are some advantages to climbing the cooperate ladder, even if she does still feels guilt over how the ascent occurred, and no-one objects when she tells them that she will not be at work for a while. It’s almost painful to be home now, to have so much time on her hands and be so close to Bree but not to be able to see her because Tom won’t attend to the children but won’t leave the yard either, he is like a sentry, posted with the sole purpose of keeping her and Bree apart. She knows that he his lingering near the house out of some misplaced sense of loyalty and solidarity, she doesn’t think he suspects anything or that he knows that he is basically guarding her virtue. Sometimes she wonders if she wants him to know, his blissful ignorance gives her free reign but it also means that he doesn’t notice that she is distracted. Her feelings for Bree are so intense that it’s almost impossible to believe that she could keep them hidden, she worries what it says about the state of their relationship that he hasn’t detected that anything is amiss. The fact that she loves Bree at all probably says a whole lot more about the state of their relationship but she doesn’t like to think about that and has decided that it is a minor problem compared with Tom’s inattention, especially when he doesn’t even notice her awkwardness around Carlos. Apparently his concentration is exclusively focused on protecting the viability of his sperm, as though mobile gametes are somehow the very definition of manhood. 

Her reaction to the fact that he has considered that he would have another family if she died is all but hysterical, she has no right to be mad at him and yet she can’t seem to stop the lies that are spewing from her mouth, drowning them both in hypocritical waters. He is talking about the abstract concept of perhaps finding someone after she has died and somehow she manages to be angry at him while standing within spitting distance of the home of the woman that she knows she wants to spend the rest of her life with. In a way her anger is not about the possibility of him finding happiness with someone else, although she doesn’t want that to happen either, it is about the fact that he would be able to have another family, give this other woman children, and even though four children is more than enough for her, part of her is sad that she and Bree don’t have that option. She knows that if they did want a child that there are alternatives but there is never going to be a baby that is a little piece of her and a little piece of Bree. She knows that he thinks he is being comforting with his room and door analogy but he is driving her crazy and even though it’s petty, it still feels really good to confiscate his sandwich and leave him in his self-imposed exile as she goes back inside.

He does make more of an effort after that and even sees to the children in his crudely constructed Hazmat suit but she can’t let the thought of him moving on go. It’s ridiculously irrational but if she dies, she wants him to be incapable of functioning, she wants him shrivel up die inside. Telling him that he is her everything isn’t a complete lie, she really can’t imagine her life without him and he is everything to her that doesn’t include Bree. She doesn’t seem to be able to stop the things that keep falling out of her mouth, can’t believe that she can sit there pushing for a vasectomy as a way to save their marriage when it is really all about levelling the playing field and making it impossible for Tom to have something that she can’t. There really is something wrong with her because she isn’t even content to have him agree to the vasectomy, she keeps bringing up the issue, as though she can somehow make him want it. She continues to prod and push him, waiting for the moment when he relinquishes his fears and accepts her point as his own, he remains begrudgingly agreeable but refuses to embrace the idea. 

Things escalate into a major argument that results in her telling him that she will not spend the night under the same roof as him but even this doesn’t make him waver, his face is stern as he delivers a hit below the belt, “Go then, try and find someone who is going to side with you, it’s not like you can run to your mother and if you do things like this the kids are going to end up hating you the way you hate her. You are walking out on them when they are sick, that’s not a whole lot better than beating them.” 

She hits right back, “And you can’t even stand to be around them in case it effects your virility, I’m sure that qualifies you for father of the year besides it shouldn’t matter to you if the kids die that would mean less baggage for you next wife and family to deal with,” she punctuates her words by slamming the door and storming out. Her exit would have been much more dramatic if Bree had have been home, it certainly loses some impact when she has to slink back home. Tom greets her reappearance with a look of triumph that thankfully withers under her glare, “I’m not staying, I’m just not leaving yet.”

It’s uncomfortable to be in the house, it doesn’t feel safe and familiar, it feels cold and unwelcoming as though it has taken sides with Tom and she wonders what she will do if Bree doesn’t return home. She doesn’t relish the idea of spending the night at anyone else’s, doesn’t what to have to deal with questions and the need for explanations. She is deliberating whether she should go to a hotel or simply drive into work and spend the night there when Betty Applewhite’s car pulls up outside of the Van de Kamp house and eventually opens one of its doors to reveal Bree. She waits for Betty to leave and then storms back across the street, pushing harshly against the door that Bree is trying to close.

“Why were you with Betty?” her voice is harsh and accusing and she is beginning to think that her brain has no control over the words that her mouth emits.

Bree seems startled, “Well good evening Lynette.”

“Don’t pull that decorum shit with me, what were doing with her?”

If she were Bree she would have delivered a volley of sarcasm in response but Bree seems to deflate before her eyes, “I had some trouble related to my car and she came upon me while I was walking home and offered to give me a lift.”

“What sort of trouble, are you ok?” the fact that Bree hasn’t been willing to parry with her takes some of the steam out of the anger that has been incubating within her and there is genuine concern behind her question.

“It’s fine now, it’s not been the best day.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” she is surprised at the softness of her words and the fact that she can clearly detect pain in her voice.

“You have your hands full with the kids, what are you doing here anyway, shouldn’t you be looking after them?”

“Tom’s with them.”

“So does that mean he’s decided that he can lift the quarantine and spend time in the house?”

“Not exactly. I didn’t leave him a whole lot of choice.”

“You two had a fight.”

She can only nod.

“Do you really think that you should be here?”

“I told him that I wouldn’t be staying there tonight.”

“And you thought that I would automatically offer you shelter.” Bree’s lips tighten.

“It’s not as though I am choosing any port in a storm, I waited there until you came home, I want to be with you.”

“That’s flattering but I don’t want you running to me every time you have an argument with him, I don’t think I’m a big enough person to handle that.”

“Does it help if the fight was kind of about you?” The colour drains from Bree’s face. “No, no, nothing like that. It was about the reason that Tom won’t spend time with kids while they have chicken pox.”

“He’s frightened of becoming sterile?”

“How did you know that?”

“He’s a man.”

“No, I mean why does everyone seem to know about that but me? That’s not the important bit anyway, it’s that he told me that he has thought about getting remarried and having another family should I die.”

“Lynette,” Bree’s voice is measured, “you aren’t really in a position to be angry with him about that.”

“I want him to be a useless husk if I die, I don’t want him to be able to get over me.”

“Then what are you doing here with me?”

“In the event of my death I would want you to be a useless husk too,” she reaches for Bree’s hand and Bree doesn’t shy away.

“I promise to be suitably devastated.”

“But you wouldn’t be able to be.”

“You doubt the depth of my feelings?”

“Not at all,” she squeezes the fingers in her grasp, “but publicly you will only be able to mourn the passing of a good friend.”

“You don’t think Tom would mourn you.”

“Of course he would but if he moves on he would be able to do it openly.”

“So this is about us about the fact that we couldn’t move on so openly.”

She closes her eyes and opens her mouth as though this will make the affirmation that she can’t make with words.

“We’d be okay,” Bree’s adds.

“How? Are we going to be able to live together, are the kids going to call you mum, would we spend Christmas together, would I be your date for weddings? This thing between us is never going to be able to be real,” her voice cracks but at least she is able to stop the tears that burn behind her eyes from falling.

“Shhh baby shhh,” lips scatter kisses over the crown of her head and hands stroke her hair, “you’re wrong, this is already real.”

“But no-one else is ever going to know that we have something special.”

“That’s their loss not ours.” Bree’s hands have moved from her hair to hold her around the waist and the clinch is almost proprietary.

“Does this mean that I can stay here tonight?”

The smile that illuminates Bree’s face makes her wonder how she could ever care whether other people know about their relationship, she doesn’t want anyone else to see that smile, it should be hers alone, “As if I would ever turn you away.” In contradiction to her words she lets go of Lynette, “I have been out a while, I don’t even know if Andrew and Danielle are home just give me a second to go and check on them.”

“It’s okay, I can sleep on the couch.”

“That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“I know that we’ve slept in your bed before but I doubt that I have the strength to do that again and not molest you.”

“That would be why we’ll be locking the door.” Her jaw drops in response to Bree’s reply, there is no pain but she is sure it must be dislocated because it’s not natural for a human being to open their mouths this wide. Bree gives her a look that should be displayed under lascivious in the dictionary and then presses her lips against Lynette’s ear, “I just need a few minutes to check on the kids and sort out the sheet situation.”

She gives Bree some time and then follows her upstairs picking up the shoes that Bree discarded in the doorway at the start of their conversation. She is apprehensive as she enters Bree’s bedroom and decides to shift things to safer ground, she holds out the broken footwear, “It really was a bad day huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“You could have called me,” this time her voice is wistful rather than accusatory.

“I wasn’t at my best, I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“That’s sweet but pointless, you’re allowed to be human, I’m not going to think any less of you.”

“It was humiliating and I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet.”

“Fair enough.”

“I did go on that date with the detective and he may have tried to hit on me.”

“You know talking about dating him isn’t nearly as funny when it’s just the two of us.”

“You don’t need to worry, he’s not a gentleman.”

“Oh but you looked so cute talking about him while daintily eating your cookie, I’m sorry that he didn’t turn out to be charming.”

“I’m a little old to be described as cute.”

“And I’m a little uncomfortable with you not liking someone based on their manners, I’m hardly a triumph for grooming and deportment.”

“You’re lady enough for me.”

“You sure you’re not just slumming?”

“I wouldn’t do anything so common.”

She smiles at Bree and finally lets her eyes travel to the freshly made bed, “So are we really going to do this because it doesn’t seem like the best time.”

“I don’t think there is ever going to be a great time, I have decided that it’s special enough that you are here with me.”

Her throat goes dry and all the moisture in her body seems to have pooled in her palms, “I feel under so much pressure now that this is not spontaneous.”

“You can start by kissing me.”

Following Bree’s suggestion isn’t difficult and all her fears and all her anger at Tom seem to evaporate in the heat of scorching kisses and the fire from wandering hands. Bree’s breath hitches as her jacket is removed and the redhead doesn’t even protest as Lynette casually drops the garment on the floor but as she kisses her way back up to Bree’s neck she finds herself being pushed away. At first she thinks Bree is worried that she will damage her necklace and considers making a comment about the fact that there is not a pearl in sight but the nervousness in Bree’s eyes remains after she removes the accessory and carelessly lets it fall to join her top. Bree takes a steadying breath yet her hands still tremble as she reaches out to remove Lynette’s clothing. Bree’s movements are almost soulless, as though she has had to fall back on her fastidious nature and the self-reliance that she utilises for her projects of perfection, it’s unsettling to feel that Bree is on autopilot and could just as easily be reupholstering furniture. Lynette is uncomfortable and attempts to remove the vestiges of her clothing that remain in an attempt to speed up the process. Bree shakes her head and for the fist time Lynette notices that her eyes aren’t dead, they are clouded with fear and lust. Lynette’s interruption does seem to release Bree from the terror that was paralysing her and she makes amends by worshipping Lynette’s body, covering every piece of exposed skin with kisses of apology. 

It takes time but Lynette finds herself naked and being pushed back onto the bed, she lands awkwardly and Bree looks mortified, as though she may have broken both Lynette’s body and the mood. She laughs and slithers her way up the bed, it’s probably not particularly attractive or seductive but it’s productive. Bree joins her on the bed and Lynette goes to remove her skirt but once again Bree shakes her head and despite the restraint of her skirt manages to straddle Lynette’s supine form. Lips and fingers trail over Lynette’s skin, this is nothing like the seemingly detached manner in which her clothing was removed, this is an exploration attended to with complete and utter reverence. 

Her body feels superheated, as though she’s burning inside and out. She clutches the sheets, needing to anchor her body to this plane because her mind has left it. Her breathing is coming only in short shallow gasps and it’s possible that she may die before Bree completes her ministrations. As Bree’s tongue finally finds it way to the apex of her thighs, her hips thrust up, greedy and demanding, but just as she is sure the she is approaching Nirvana she finds her body bereft of Bree’s touch. She props herself up on her elbows and discovers that Bree is sitting on the edge of the bed, her head downcast. She approaches Bree cautiously and decides that it’s probably better not to touch her, she places herself beside Bree and looks straight ahead, “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything that your not ready for.”

“I’m never going to ready.”

“Maybe it would help if you had something to drink.”

“What is it with everyone on this street? Are you all planning some sort of intervention in stages? I am not self-medicating.”

Bree’s response is out of proportion and she files that away to address with her at a more appropriate time, “I just mean that last time, when we, well when I, well I’d had a bit to drink and that kind of helped me get past my fear of failure.”

“I’m not worried about disappointing you.”

“My aren’t we confident all of a sudden.”

“Not really but your body’s reaction seemed to suggest that I was doing alright.”

“That you were.”

For the first time in the conversation Bree turns to look at her, “I didn’t think I’d be able to do this in this room, I thought I’d feel like God was watching us, like Rex was watching us but there’s nothing, there’s just you and me.”

“So is that the problem? Is this not as enjoyable for you as you thought? Am I not okay?” 

A strong hand pulls her face around so that their eyes meet and Bree strokes her thumb across Lynette’s lips, “It’s not you. You are so perfect.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“I’m scared of what happens if I cross this final bridge, scared of what it makes me.”

“I think it’s kind of semantics at this point, I don’t think your sin is going to be any less if we don’t complete the act, I think we’ll be damned already.”

“When do you think one becomes a lesbian?”

She laughs in spite of herself and hates that this causes a frown to form on Bree’s face, “I think it’s a bit late to worry about that too.”

“So you think of yourself as gay now?”

“I don’t think of myself as anything other than a woman who really wants to finish what we just started.”

“This doesn’t bother you?”

“Have I mentioned that I’m kind of desperate here?”

“I was raised to believe that homosexuality was a mortal sin.”

“It doesn’t really bother me, I have more concerns about the adultery aspect.”

“Well that’s a sin too.”

“I know but do you really think that your God is going to be more lenient on you if we stop now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you what I do know, if this is something that we are going to be damned for, it’s so very worth it.”

“Now who’s over confident?”

“In all seriousness Bree, when you touch me I don’t feel like we are doing anything wrong.”

“Neither do I.”

“So your problem is that you don’t have a problem?”

“I guess so.”

“I’m in love with a lunatic.”

“This doesn’t bother you,” Bree looks adorably puzzled.

“Well my body is in need of some attention but other than that I’m good.”

“You still love me?”

“You think that is going to change if you’re less than perfect?”

“Trying my best to be perfect is the only thing that I have every known I can’t just let that go.”

“Nobody’s asking you to.”

“Is it okay if we end this conversation now?”

“And do what?”

“You mentioned that you needed some attention,” Bree manages to look predatory and shy at the same time.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

“No, not at all.”

“Well okay then,” she had more to say but her words disappear into Bree’s kiss. Bree moves them, slowly but with purpose, until they are back on the bed with Bree lying on top of her. Lynette’s body is wired and it doesn’t take long until she is back on edge, arching her back and pushing her breasts in the direction of Bree’s mouth. Her body is crying out for release and she snakes her hand down and places it between her own legs, “It’s okay, you are doing fine but I can take care of this part until you’re ready.” Bree doesn’t protest or scold her, instead she moves her hand to join Lynette’s, linking their fingers as they move in unison across Lynette’s inflamed flesh. It’s kind of cumbersome and awkward but it doesn’t seem to matter, Bree is touching her and the thought of that alone is enough to make her climax, her body shuddering as Bree smothers her mouth to limit the sound of her cries. 

As she floats back down to Earth Bree is looking at her with a concerned expression, “Was that okay.”

“More than,” it’s not poetry but it’s more coherent than she thought she would be.

“But I didn’t do very much.”

“Oh you did plenty.”

They kiss and caress, lazy and content, she tries to advance things but Bree stops her, “I owed you remember.”

“I am not going to let you turn this into a complicate system of checks and balances.”

“Fine but for tonight I am not going to be in your debt.” She realises that tonight has been difficult for Bree and that if this is want she thinks she needs then Lynette can be patient. She does remove Bree’s skirt and then wrapped her naked body around Bree, her sweat making their skin stick together. She is surprised that Bree doesn’t make them shower or at least change the sheets but she is not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. When she drifts off to sleep she doesn’t think about Tom, their failing marriage or their ailing children, she is only thinking that what she feels is happy and whole and home.


End file.
